In Between
by airbolt
Summary: Mood pieces featuring Bodie and Doyle
1. Chapter 1

"Ow's yer new gaff then? " said Bodie

"Like a shoebox , mate " replied Doyle " I never knew I 'ad so much crap "

" Never mind , amount of time Cowley gives us off we might as well live at work " sighed Bodie

" Yer not wrong there " huffed Doyle " That last oppo was a right bum number , sitting in a Trannie for four days "

" Yeah , all that and the toe rag turns up in a knocking shop in Perry Vale. All that and ee gets pulled by uniform !" growled Bodie

" No doubt 'ees in Cannon Street now singin is little eart out" said Doyle " We could ave used the collar – Cowley's been like a bulldog chewing a wasp of late! "

"Another Red Barrel?" asked Bodie " Same again for me with a chaser " The Barman looked at the pair but kept his thoughts to himself – special plod so the rumour went. It certainly kept the scumbags out.

" You get down to 'ighbury last Saturday? Charlie George scored a rocket from about thirty yards ! Pick that one out" said Bodie

" Nahh , my bird got me to take 'er to the flicks " replied Doyle

" You want to put yer foot down , sunshine. You'll be wearing a Pinnie next! " laughed Bodie

" She's a lovely girl , I'll ave you know . Not like those barmaids you go for!" parried Doyle

"Nuffin wrong wiv Barmaids . mate. Did I tell you about Lola from the Dog and Ferret – once she…"

started Bodie

" You told me , mate , and I still can't believe it." Said Doyle. He surveyed the pub. A couple of teenage lads attempted to impress a couple of spotty girls with Roller scarfs atteached to their wrists. A chubby geezer was trying to extract a pack of Players from the machine and having no luck. A couple of guys by the window were attempting to blend in with the wallpaper – they might as well been wearing " I'm an ex lag" signs.The bar was wrapped in a fug of fag smoke mainly from an old boy in the corner. Doyle thought he looked like he had been in both World Wars .

" What would you do if they banned smoking in pubs ?" he asked the Barman

"Never 'appen in my lifetime , Guv. Nobody will go to pubs if you can't smoke" said the Barman. He knew Doyle was one of those rare animals – a copper who thought about the bigger picture.

"Quite right " chimed Bodie " Next we'll be aving a woman prime minister . As if…"

The night came to an unsteady end at chucking out time . The Barman rang last orders – at least for his regulars. These two could have a lock in whenever they liked .

"That's me for home " said Bodie glassily

" I'll get a cab " Doyle slouched toward the pay phone

" You jessie , I can drive. I've only 'ad five " challenged Bodie

" You remember what appened with the Granada? Cowley did you at the knees for that!" said Doyle

" OK , I get the message . Taxi it is then"

The Barman sighed with relief . He hated Lock ins.


	2. Chapter 2

"Greasy Eddie?" asked Doyle impatiently. The Boozer was half empty with only the dedicated afternoon lowlifes nursing pints. There was a pervading odor of pork pies and stale farts. Doyle's face was inches from the grass's unshaven and sweaty face. The halitosis was nearly unbearable.

"'ees doing ten years in the scrubs" belched the informant. He was shivering despite wearing a duffel coat buttoned up.

"Uncle Stavros?" persisted Doyle, wondering if a bit of Bodie-like armwork was going to be required. He reluctantly balled his fist in view of the wretched informer.

"Legged it to Torremolinos!" breathed the grass.

"Hard Vinnie?" Doyle continued, getting frustrated and inching closer despite the pong.

"Had the op! "She" is now doing cabaret in Peckham!" the grass gurgled an ugly laugh, akin to a death rattle.

"Bent Bobby?" shouted Doyle. This was his last guess.

"Like I told you, Mr Doyle, all the old firm are out of the picture. These new mob, they're a bunch of psychos. Not like the old days" the grass looked misty eyed at Doyle.

"Yeah" scowled Doyle" Nostalgia ain't want it used to be. 'Eres a monkey and next time I expect better than the old pony you just came up with"

Bodie was in the Capri, playing with the Eight-track.

"You've got sod all worth listening to. It's all beardy stuff. What about a bit of heavy stuff?" said Bodie.

"Do I look like Alan Freeman? Anyway, I 'eard that these were going out soon. It's not worth getting any more." Said Doyle, "On a less positive note, Smelly 'ad nothing on the Blag."

Bodie looked worried.

"What?. They're getting rid of Eight-track? Flippin 'eck, just as long as they never get rid of L.Ps" he mused.

"That's just stupid, what else are you gonna listen to music on" replied Doyle, "Anyway I'm stuffed if I 'ave to replace my record collection"

The Capri peeled into the London traffic with Tangerine Dream belting out the speakers. Bodie winced and wished he had his Status Quo Eight-Track with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Bodie could concentrate when he wanted to. Right now his full attention was on the copy of Mayfair four-nine had left in the Escort. Tania from Cleethorpes seemed like a nice girl. There was a tap on the window. It was Doyle with the chips. He had the newspaper parcels, wet through with lard.

"You'll go blind reading that" said Doyle.

" Never mind that, did you get a fork?" moaned Bodie, flinging the well-thumbed magazine onto the back seat. Doyle proferred the plywood fork. " Anyway, I only read it for the articles!"

There was a muffled laugh. " You forgot to put M'lud at the end of that sentence!" said Doyle.

" Nice chips, these" scoffed Bodie "Not like the last lot. Tasted like they fried them in some old boys Brylcreem. The fish was like lino and the pop was like warm wazz"

" Apart from that you enjoyed it" said a quizzical Doyle "You know what, I tried some falafel down Portobello Road the other night"

"Farrah what?" said Bodie, a gob of grease running down his chin." Oh , it's some of that poncey hippy stuff you like, yeah?"

" Not everything has to be a heart attack on a plate, Bodie!" humphed Doyle " You ought to try some Tofu"

" Ah, you think I'm too thick to know what Tofu is" Bodie was looking pleased" So'appens, five-six is right into that oriental stuff. Tried some, tastes like fried snot"

" Typical. I bet you go to Spain and 'ave a fry up" said Doyle, swigging a can of Top Deck.

"It's good honest British food" Bodie couldn't see the irony " When I was in Germany, we always ate like we was back in Blighty"

Doyle waited for a second. " So, you had Chinese"

"Exactly"


End file.
